Blake Sterling, in front of everyone, presented the core “Digital Transformation” plan I had personally crafted for Reed Media, to Chloe Hayes. “Chloe isn’t just the love of my life; she’s the future hope of Reed Media. From today forward, she will take over from Alex Reed as the Group’s new CEO.” Silence blanketed the room. I stared at the perfect couple on stage: he, handsome and commanding; she, delicate and vulnerable. Behind them, on the massive screen, was the business plan I’d painstakingly written over three sleepless months, totaling over a million words. Chloe nestled into Blake’s embrace, her gaze landing precisely on me. “Alex, I’m so sorry. Blake and I truly love each other. We’ve been together for three years. My baby, they can’t grow up without a father.” Three years ago. That was exactly when I earned my Oxford PhD, brimming with ambition, returning home ready to conquer the world. Turns out, my life had been a joke since then. Blake Sterling’s eyes were like ice. “Alex Reed, your family is bankrupt. Reed Media is now *mine*. I need a wife who can help my career, not someone who’s all theoretical nonsense and no practical value.” “Look at yourself now – paranoid, suspicious, completely unstable. Chloe is kind, pure. She’s the one who truly belongs by my side.” “Mentally unstable.” *Huh.* What a convenient label to slap on me. Before I could even speak, Chloe suddenly gasped, her body dramatically slumping towards me. Blake lunged forward, catching her securely in his arms. Then he glared at me like I was a madwoman, roaring, “Alex Reed! Are you out of your mind? Chloe is pregnant, and you’d lay a hand on her!” I stood rooted to the spot, not moving an inch. But everyone around me had already condemned me, nailing me to the pillar of shame as the “evil ex-fiancée who pushed a pregnant woman.” Flashbulbs popped like crazy, reporters, like sharks scenting blood, shoved microphones into my face. “Ms. Reed, did you truly push her out of jealousy?” “We heard your mental state has deteriorated since your family’s bankruptcy, is that true?” “How do you feel about Mr. Sterling and Ms. Hayes’ relationship?” Blake held Chloe tightly, letting the vicious accusations and cold cameras crucify me. In that moment, I didn’t cry. All my tears flowed back inward, hardening into the coldest ice. I watched the phony horror and concern on that repulsive pair’s faces, and the contemptuous, gloating looks from the crowd. The docile, kind Alex Reed of the past twenty-seven years, the one who believed in love and friendship, was utterly destroyed by them in that moment. From her ashes rose a brand new me. Only one thought burned in my mind. I wanted them to pay, in blood.
I was “escorted” out of the ballroom. Two security guards “supported” me, one on each side, their posture polite, their grip unyielding. Blake was afraid I, the “madwoman,” would stay and ruin his little show. I was dumped outside the hotel entrance. The evening breeze hit me, sobering me up considerably. My phone vibrated wildly in my pocket. I didn’t even need to look to know what the notifications would say. #EliteScandal: Heiress Alex Reed Suffers Breakdown, Causes Scene at Gala, Pushes Pregnant Friend# #BlakeSterlingChloeHayes: Fairytale Love, True Feelings Revealed in Adversity# #PerfectHeiressAlexReedPersonaCrumbles# *Huh*, what a brilliant “public execution” strategy. They understood the power of the media perfectly. First, they branded me “mentally unstable,” so anything I said or did afterward would be dismissed as a madwoman’s ramblings. Ruthless, professional. Fitting, considering they stole my plan and then applied it so cleverly. I didn’t go home. That so-called home had already been stolen from me. I hailed a taxi on the street and gave the address of a quiet, older apartment complex. It was a small apartment I’d bought with my first scholarship check during college, registered solely in my name. Thankfully, I’d left myself one last fallback. The driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror, his eyes a mix of sympathy and gossip. “Miss, you’re… Ms. Reed from the news, aren’t you?” I said nothing. He sighed to himself. “Ah, these rich family dramas, they’re truly messy. That guy isn’t much better, looks decent on the outside.” I gave a faint smile, not responding. Messy? It was about to get a whole lot messier. Back at the apartment, I stripped off the six-figure gown, tossed it into the trash, and took a long, hot shower. The warm water rinsed my body, and the confusion from my mind. I had no time to collapse, no time to cry. Tears were the ultimate sign of weakness. From the moment they pushed me off that cliff, this war had begun. My only weapon wasn’t the Reed family name, nor the pitiful balance in my bank account. It was the knowledge in my brain, the very “theoretical nonsense” Blake had mocked. Oxford University, PhD in Media and Communications. I had spent seven years learning how to shape public opinion, create trends, twist narratives, and redefine perceptions. Before, I treated these as academic concepts. Now, they were my weapons of war. I dried my hair and dragged out a dusty box from under my bed. Inside was an old laptop and several encrypted satellite phones. I’d prepared this gear during my studies for sensitive fieldwork in certain regions. The laptop booted up, the screen flickering to life. I expertly logged into several global social platforms and deep web forums, activating seven or eight anonymous accounts I’d registered long ago. These accounts didn’t have huge followings, but each one represented a contact I’d built over the years across the globe, through my professional expertise and personal charisma. There were renowned investigative journalists, top-tier hackers, and classmates who were now executives at multinational PR firms. In the past, we discussed theories and case studies. Now, I was going to talk to them about business. I didn’t immediately expose Blake and Chloe’s dirty laundry. That would be foolish. Given that they’d already painted me as a “crazy woman,” any leak from me would be dismissed as “a madwoman’s revenge.” To trap your prey, first, you need to make them drop their guard. Then, you weave a net they can’t escape. I needed leverage, a legal anchor to pry open the entire situation. My gaze fell on an old news article on my laptop screen. *Industry Conscience or Business Idiot? Star Lawyer Julian Thorne Expelled from Top Law Firm ‘Revelation Legal’ for Refusing to Participate in Hostile Takeover of Reed Media.* The date was just a week before my “bankruptcy.” *Interesting.* Turns out, I wasn’t the only one who’d been betrayed. The enemy of my enemy is my friend. I picked up a satellite phone and dialed a number. The call connected. A clear, cautious male voice answered. “Who is this?” “Mr. Thorne,” I began, my voice as calm as if discussing the weather. “This is Alex Reed. I think we have a common enemy, and perhaps we could discuss how to send him straight to hell.”
Julian Thorne arranged to meet me at an unassuming coffee shop. He was leaner than in his photos, his features sharp, his eyes behind his glasses like scalpels. A sugar-free Americano sat untouched before him, his entire demeanor radiating an unapproachable bitterness. “Ms. Reed, are you looking for me to overturn a verdict?” He cut straight to the chase, no pleasantries. I shook my head, taking a sip of my lemon water. “No, overturning it is too slow. I’m here to propose a partnership. Together, we’ll start a new company.” Julian’s eyebrow twitched; he clearly hadn’t expected that. “A new company?” “Yes,” I leaned forward, meeting his gaze directly. “A firm specializing in crisis PR and legal warfare. I handle media strategy, you handle legal support. Our first client will be myself. Our first job will be to bury Blake Sterling and Chloe Hayes, along with all the capital investors behind them.” My knuckles tapped lightly on the table, a subconscious habit when I was thinking. *Tap, tap, tap…* Steady and unhurried. Julian watched me, his gaze analytical, assessing. “Ms. Reed, what makes you think you can win? You’re disgraced, you have nothing. Blake Sterling, on the other hand, has the entire Sterling family behind him, plus all the capital giants who profited from this hostile takeover.” “Because I understand the rules of the game better than they do.” I smiled, though no warmth reached my eyes. “They thought by ruining my reputation, I’d lose. On the contrary, when someone’s been dragged through the mud and has nothing left to lose, that’s when they become truly terrifying.” “Mr. Thorne, you were kicked out of Revelation Legal and blacklisted from the industry because of your professional integrity. Are you willing to accept that?” I looked into his eyes, asking each word deliberately. His hand, under the table, subtly clenched. I knew I’d hit a nerve. “Blake Sterling’s hostile takeover of Reed Media, using illegal means, isn’t without legal loopholes. It’s just that neither of us had the evidence at the time.” I upped the ante. “But public opinion can be the knife that cuts through that veil. If we can channel public outrage and force regulatory bodies to intervene, you’ll have a chance to reclaim everything that’s yours in court.” Julian was silent for a long time, so long that his coffee grew cold. Finally, he looked up, his eyes no longer skeptical but alight with a certain kind of fire. “I need to see your plan.” “The plan has already begun.” I pushed my phone across the table to him. On the screen was a post I’d made with one of my anonymous burner accounts on a popular women’s forum overseas. The title: *I Was Jointly Betrayed by My Husband and Best Friend, Went from Billionaire Heiress to Being Kicked Out. What Should I Do?* In the post, I didn’t name names. I used a fictional identity to tearfully recount the story of a “vilified victim.” The protagonist was portrayed as kind, naive, giving her all for love, only to be betrayed by those she trusted most, her family’s fortune stolen, and then smeared as “crazy.” I cleverly wove in every single thing Blake and Chloe had done to me, subtly disguised in this fictional narrative. But I made sure to mention nothing of commercial competition, only emotional betrayal. Because I knew the public’s interest in complex business disputes paled in comparison to their hunger for moral judgment of “cheaters and home-wreckers.” This post, in just a few hours, was translated into multiple languages and spread virally across major social platforms. Sympathy, outrage, condemnation… Countless comments poured in, netizens globally demanding justice for this fictional “me.” “This is the first step,” I said to Julian, retrieving my phone. “Before the official war begins, I need to seize the moral high ground and firmly label myself as the ‘victim.’” “I want the whole world to believe that a pitiful woman is suffering a grave injustice. Once that emotional foundation is laid, when I finally drop Blake Sterling and Chloe Hayes’ names, the explosion of public opinion will be truly devastating.” Julian looked at me, his expression transformed. If before it was scrutiny, now it was shock, even a hint of awe. He probably hadn’t imagined a woman, after such a colossal blow, could remain so calm, rational, and even possess a nearly cruel precision in orchestrating her revenge. “I’m in,” he finally said, his voice hoarse but resolute. “What do you need me to do?” “It’s simple,” I pushed a pre-prepared list across to him. “Help me uncover three things.” “First, an irrefutable chain of evidence proving Chloe Hayes stole my plan, including the earliest time she accessed it and email records of her leaking it to Blake Sterling.” “Second, all financial records of Blake Sterling misusing company funds to buy her homes, cars, and luxury items during their affair.” “Third, and most crucially, the names of all the capital groups involved in that hostile takeover, besides the Sterling family. I want a complete list of every single one of them.” I paused, adding a final sentence. “I want Blake Sterling to know who he truly offended for the sake of one woman.”
Over the next month, I lived like a ghost. By day, I holed myself up in my small apartment, weaving my web across the digital world like a precise machine. I operated over a dozen anonymous social media accounts, each with a different identity and nationality, posting carefully designed content daily. Some accounts were radical feminists, railing against injustice in emotional betrayals; some were rational financial bloggers, analyzing the collapse of business ethics; others were gentle emotional support channels, continuing the serialized story of the “poor woman” and garnering immense sympathy. These accounts seemed unconnected, yet they were like countless tiny streams, converging into a single powerful emotion across the internet – rage against “cheaters and home-wreckers.” I didn’t mention Blake Sterling or Chloe Hayes by name, but through this fabricated story, their public image became increasingly clear, increasingly detestable in the public consciousness. This was a classic application of “agenda-setting” theory. Before igniting a topic, first establish its framework and tone in public discourse. And Blake and Chloe were completely oblivious. They were basking in the glow of their victory. Chloe, sporting a growing baby bump, frequently gave interviews to major financial media outlets, presenting herself as an “inspirational goddess.” In these interviews, she glorified my “Digital Transformation” plan, portraying herself as a brilliant, fate-defying business prodigy. She even, in one interview, feigned “fond remembrance” of me. “Alex was actually very talented, but unfortunately, she was too extreme in her personality, too stubborn… Sigh, I truly feel for her.” The more she performed, the calmer I became. I downloaded all her interview videos, analyzing them frame by frame, comparing every word she said about the plan to my original document on my computer, annotating everything. These would all become exhibits in court. Meanwhile, Blake was busy with a massive purge within Reed Media, installing his own people in all key positions as the new owner. He was thriving in business, and even more so in his personal life. He hosted a lavish engagement party for Chloe, sending invitations across the entire upper crust of society. Photos of the party, all over Ins, showed Chloe’s pigeon-egg-sized pink diamond blinding everyone. I looked at those photos, feeling absolutely nothing. *Dance, dance your hearts out.* The higher you jump, the harder you’ll fall. Julian Thorne’s efficiency was remarkable. Using his past connections at Revelation Legal and some less-than-above-board channels, he quickly sent me everything I needed, one by one, to my encrypted email. Chloe and Blake’s email exchanges were irrefutable proof. She first saw my plan one afternoon three years ago, in my home study. She’d made an excuse to wait for me, and then copied all the files onto a miniature USB drive. Blake’s evidence of embezzling company funds was even more shocking. The luxury mansion he bought for Chloe in a prime downtown location, the three sports cars registered in her name, even the pink diamond on her finger – every single penny came from Reed Media’s accounts. Most critically, the list of capital groups involved in the hostile takeover. I stared at the long list of familiar names: old Sterling family associates, former rivals of the Reed family, and even a few “uncles” and “aunts” my father had once implicitly trusted. *Good, very good.* One clean sweep, made things easier. Everything was ready, just waiting for the opportune moment. A moment that would allow this public opinion storm to unleash its maximum impact. Soon, that moment arrived. Reed Media announced that it would hold its annual shareholder meeting at the end of the month, simultaneously hosting a grand press conference to officially launch its new “Digital Transformation Strategy” to the global market. The star, naturally, would be the new CEO, Chloe Hayes. I looked at the announcement and smiled. They were eager to declare their stolen fruits to the world, to firmly cement their false accomplishments. *Perfect.* The judgment, of course, had to take place on the grandest stage to be truly impactful. I sent Julian a message. “The time is now. Prepare to reel them in.” A week before the shareholder meeting, I fired the first shot. The target was Chloe Hayes’ most prized “talented woman” persona. I sent a carefully compiled anonymous tip to *Business Deep Throat*, the nation’s top industry media known for its in-depth investigative reporting. Attached to the email were two documents.
🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “298570”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #浪漫Romance #现实主义Realistic
Leave a Reply